A Breath of Air
by Disco-Dancing on the Roof
Summary: Miscarriages and a distressing prophecy leave Lily Potter an overprotective wreck. Her son quickly begins to suffocate under his mother's stifling nurturing, until a failed raid brings contact with the only one who understands. AU, Dark!Harry, HPLV.
1. Miscarriage

**Breath of Air**

By: Disco-Dancing on the Roof

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for characters or some such that I make up... but, seeing as how they're not here yet, I own absolutely nothing. Bugger.

Summary: A series of miscarriages and a distressing prophecy leave Lily Potter an overprotective wreck. Her son quickly begins to suffocate under his mother's stifling nurturing, and unbeknownst to everyone, retreats further and further into himself - until, thanks to a failed Death Eater raid, he comes into contact with the only one who really understands him... AU, slightly Dark!Harry, eventual HPLV.

A/N: (Be warned, there's another one of these at the end...) So. I've been reading WAY too many HPLV fics, and though there are definitely some good ones, they all seem to be chronically un-updated. Thus, I write my own. I'm trying for a very unique spin here... hopefully, it works. But if I seem to be copying someone else's work, please, DO NOT HESITATE TO TELL ME. I hate plagiarism.

* * *

Harry Potter awoke that morning to a vague feeling of unease. It was nothing overwhelming, to be sure, and certainly nothing he would ordinarily pay much attention to, but... still... Petite shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. He supposed it did not matter. It was probably just residual from a dream or nightmare of some sort. Harry was no stranger to nightmares, after all.

The three-year-old sighed. He did not like thinking about those; best just to push them from his mind.

Clambering clumsily down from his oversized four-poster bed, its scarlet sheets mussed in silent testimony to his restless night and constant shifting, Harry hit the floor with a muffled thud. Soft, warm carpet greeted cold toes and Harry paused for a second to enjoy these last early-morning moments of lazy comfort before heading into the adjoining bathroom to freshen up for the ensuing day.

Bright green eyes blinked blearily at him from beneath messy raven hair. Harry shot his reflection a cheeky smile. Though he did not necessarily like the way he looked - his mother insisted on calling him 'cute', when he was so obviously _not _- he rather imagined his appearance held some sort of masculine roughness; he was, after all, nearly four.

Harry brushed his teeth and dressed quickly. He flashed his relection another grin. Though his mother would no doubt disagree, he personally thought that orange dinosaurs were a brilliant fashion statement.

* * *

"Morning, Mum," Harry greeted a scant five minutes later as he strolled indolently into the massive kitchen. Wooden beams arced high over his head, both complementing the hardwood floor and contrasting with the marble countertops beautifully, and soft sunlight streamed in through the open windows, a faint smell of spring perfuming the air.

"Morning, baby," Lily returned warmly from her position against the sink. "Did you sleep well?"

He made a face. She sighed.

"Well, try to sleep better tonight, at least. I'll give you a potion if you need it.

He made a much ruder face and she laughed. "Yes, well, we'll see. What would you like for breakfast?"

Harry plopped himself down on the ivory-colored seat of an oaken barstool, small feet swinging idly, and proceeded to rattle off a long list of all his favorite foods. He had just gotten to sausage and chips when Lily made a pained noise and tried to stifle a little gasp, grasping at her middle.

"Mummy?" he asked, concerned.

She tried to smile at him. "It's nothing, baby... Um, be a dear - fetch your father?"

Harry nodded hastily and scampered off to do as bid. James did not wake up as early as his wife and son, Harry knew, but he was usually in the process of getting up right about then. Harry thought he would be in the bathroom, perhaps the shower.

* * *

"Uncle Sirius?" Harry asked uncertainly half an hour later. "Where's Mummy? Is she okay?"

Sirius Black glanced down at his godson uncomfortably. He didn't want to lie to the kid, but he didn't want to upset him further, either. He sighed, crouching down so that they could make eye contact.

"Your daddy took her to St. Mungo's, kiddo," he explained, opting for the truth; anything else would have been unfair to Harry. "It's probably nothing huge, but, well, best to be sure, isn't it?"

Emerald eyes looked away from grey and instead directed themselves at the boy's bare feet as he processed this information silently. After a time, he raised his head again to focus on his godfather's concerned face. "It was the baby, wasn't it? Something happened with the baby."

Sirius blanched. He hadn't known that they had told Harry about Lily's pregnancy - hell, he hadn't know the kid was aware what pregnancy _was _- and he was not quite sure how to answer such a question. "Er," he mumbled after an awkward pause, "Er, yeah, I think so."

Harry's eyes softened in sadness. "When will she be home?"

This, at least, he could answer. Though James had firecalled him out of the blue and asked, abrubtly, if Sirius could watch Harry for the day, he had at least thought to tell his friend when to expect himself and Lily to return.

"Soon, kiddo. Tomorrow morning before you wake up, at the latest."

The boy's shoulders slumped. "I miss her."

"Hey," Sirius reached out and tousled jet-black locks, striving to lighten the mood, "Hey, mama's boy, it won't be so long. Besides, you've got your Uncle Padfoot to keep you company. No rules! We're gonna have a blast!"

His efforts were rewarded with a timid giggle that became more sincere toward its end. Sirius smiled; children were so easy to please when they were young. So innocent.

Somewhat bittersweetly, Sirius wondered how much longer Harry would remain that young, that innocent; he wondered how long it would be before the boy was embarassed by his Uncle Padfoot's antics, before he grew up.

He shook his head. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go play outside. I hear your daddy got you a toy broom the other day?"

* * *

Sirius sighed, barely audible above the soft snicking of the heavy door as he closed it behind himself. He was utterly exhausted. He had run himself ragged trying to keep Harry entertained and lighthearted. Who knew such a small boy could have so very much energy?

A small smile graced his otherwise anxious features as he recalled his day. He and Harry had run all over the grounds of the Potter estate and laid waste to the playroom. He was also fairly certain that they'd completely destroyed the kitchen during their ice-cream binge... he grimaced. Actually, he had better go clean that warzone up before Lily and James returned. If Lily so much as glanced at that mess, Sirius was certain he would never be left unsupervised in her home again.

It was while he was attending to that, long hair tied tied back in a silly-looking ponytail that sat far too high on his head and bounced playfully, that he heard a soft murmur of voices somewhere near the front door. Sirius tugged a pair of bright pink gloves off of his hands and removed the frilly apron from around his waist.

"Sirius?" James's voice.

"In here, Prongs," Sirius returned as he took down his hair.

James trudged wearily into the kitchen and immediately sank into a chair, bloodshot eyes drifting closed for a moment in sheer exhaustion. Sirius grabbed two haindpainted ceramic mugs and filled them with the ancient coffee Lily had brewed that morning, seating himself at the wooden table across from his friend and placing one in front of each of them. There was a long pause as they both sipped at the foul stuff.

Finally, James spoke. "She lost it. They don't know why, but she lost it."

Sirius set down his cup and placed a consoling hand on his best friend's shoulder. "I see."

"I dunno, she was doing fine, we had no reason to worry about anything, and then she just lost it." Pained hazel eyes bored into sympathetic grey. "My baby's dead, Sirius."

Sirius lowered his eyes. He really was no good at this. "Well... these things to happen, Prongs. She was still in the early stages; it's not so uncommon." He realized, though, that that might not have been an entirely comforting thing to say, and added, "How's she doing, anyway?"

James ran a hand through ragged hair - he hadn't had a chance to comb it that morning - and tried for a smile. "All right, considering. She's a fighter, y'know? She's upstairs, sleeping, I think..." He fell silent again. "Just, just... my baby's _dead_."

Sirius hugged his friend close. He didn't know what else to do.

* * *

"Mommy?"

Lily froze, unsure, then carefully navigated her way across the deep golden carpeting of her son's darkened bedroom. "Hi, baby," she murmured, "How's my little guy?"

She could make out a form darker than the surrounding shadows sitting up in the black rectangle that was Harry's bed.

"I missed you," the child whispered gently. "Are you okay?"

Lily choked back a sob. "Fine sweetheart, I'm fine."

She did not think Harry had caught the slight emphasis on the pronoun; she saw no reason he would. Harry had had no idea she was pregnant (she had not been sure how to broach the subject) , no idea that he had just lost a sibling.

"Oh." Silence reigned for a moment. "Good."

She leaned down to hug him, settling herself on his bed. So much love and tenderness had been contained in that one word. Gods, but she loved her son. So sensitive, so warm, so caring. So innocent. Such a wonderful little boy.

Her arms tightened briefly. She wasn't going to lose this baby, too.

She'd heard from Dumbledore. He'd told her things - such awful things - things she had no intention of seeming come to pass. Things about Harry, but - no! Let it be the Longbottom boy. Lily would feel horrible for him, of that there was no doubt, but...

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Mommy."

...nothing, and _no one_, was going to harm her son.

* * *

_Lily paused, suddenly hesitant, at the statue. She was not entirely sure why Albus had called her here - in truth, she had somewhat less than no idea - but she had gotten the feeling that it could not be for any reason she would like. He had owled her so suddenly, offered her no explanations, and simply demanded that she meet him at his office in Hogwarts as soon as she possibly could. _

_She whispered the ridiculous password nervously and stepped onto the spiral staircase, trying to sooth her rapidly fluttering heart as she ascended._

_"Lily, dear," Albus greeted warmly as soon as she had entered. "It is nice to see you."_

_Lily sat down across from his desk and fidgeted. "Why did you want to see me, Headmaster?"_

_The ancient wizard's eyes dimmed slightly as he regarded her, his whole countenance seeming to sag to the earth. "I am afraid I have some rather strange, unpleasant news, my dear."_

_She really, truly did not like the sound of that. "Strange?"_

_The headmaster nodded. Cleared his throat. "Lily," he began, "Do you believe in prophecies?"_

* * *

A/N: What did you think? Please tell me (in a review, hint-hint); I'd love to know! Seriously. I get all depressed when no one reviews and quickly lose my will to write. No joke. I'm just that pathetic.

Also, it may seem like I have a little plothole in here, in regards to Harry's knowing about Lily's pregnancy even though she did not inform him. I don't. I swear. There are many things in this chapter that will be explained later, so just sit tight.

Same goes for the total lack of Tom-ness in this. He shows up eventually (I dunno how soon, since I've already trashed my outline, but it won't be too long). So, again, just sit tight.

And review! Er, please?


	2. Birthday

A/N: As promised, the Saturday update. That's a major benefit of reviewing, by the by; if you review, I not only respond, but I tell you when the next update will be. (Aren't I great? And modest?)

In this chapter, I have succeeded in completely decimating my original outline. There are several teasers and an entire scene in here that were never meant to exist. They just sort of happened. And a character I had not intended to show up for a while yet, and certainly not so favorably, has been portrayed in a light which many of you will not expect and might resent. I ask only that you give him a chance. If only for Harry's sake. -wink-

Also, I'm sorry if these first few chapters seem a bit slow and dull. The story actually picks up its pace towards the end of this one, but I don't want anyone to get bored and abandon me.

* * *

Despite the unexpected tragedy that had stricken his family, life for Harry Potter continued much as it always had. His parents had seemed rather devastated by the loss of their unborn child - although they never, of course, discussed it with him; he was not supposed to have known - but Harry honestly could not understand their feelings. He'd seen, once, in a book he had found in his parents' bedroom, that babies as young as Lily's had been were little more than bundles of organs and cells. To Harry, they resembled nothing so much as rubbery pink peanuts with legs.

He did not understand how anyone could love a peanut.

But he did not share these observations with anyone. Although young, Harry possessed quite a bit of common sense and an uncanny ability to know when to keep his mouth shut. Besides, he reasoned, he too was once a peanut, and his parents had certainly loved _him ­_- why wouldn't they love this new child as well?

All the same, Harry was gladdened that his parents' spirits lifted as time wore on. They began to come alive and Lily was smiling again. This pleased Harry immensely. He did not like it when his mum was sad.

She had even roused herself, when the day rolled around, to throw Harry a small party for his fourth birthday.

Which was why he was currently sitting at a low table in the middle of the back lawn, shrieking and giggling children gallivanting all around him. Harry wore a brightly colored paper hat strapped tightly beneath his chin, distinguishable from those of the other children only by the gaily coloured orange pom-pom decorating its tip. His face was smeared with the remnants of long-ago melted chocolate ice-cream, and his fingers had somehow discovered a way to stain themselves blue. Green-kneed white shorts revealed themselves as the four-year-old shot out of his seat indignantly.

"Oi," Harry cried, whipping around and wriggling a bit to dislodge the ice that had just been dropped down the back of his shirt. "Who did that?!"

Emerald eyes, the exact same shade as the summer foliage swaying so enticingly in the gentle breeze, narrowed as they caught sight of the culprit. Harry tackled the boy in righteous anger and pinned him to the ground.

"Die!" he shrieked.

The other boy shoved Harry off of himself and hopped to his feet, bright red hair horribly mussed and dancing blue eyes opened wide in amusement. "No, you die!"

Harry's jaw snapped shut. Never, _never_, had he been so insulted in his entire life. This meant war.

"No, you!" He ordered defiantly, giving the redhead a little shove.

"You!"

"You!"

"I asked you first!"

"Well-" the boy was cut off by a plump, irritated-looking witch with frizzy hair every bit as bright as his own.

"Ronald Weasley!" she snapped. "You cut this nonsense out right this moment! You're being incredibly rude."

Ronald's gaze dropped to his feet. "Yes, Mum."

The woman glared at her son, nodded, and retreated back to the group of parents spread out against the white table all but buckling under the weight of the plethora of unhealthy delights covering it. Though she lifted a goblet of some sort of juice to her lips and chattered politely with the wizard standing next to her, her eyes remained sharply focused on her son.

"Pssh," Ron hissed. "Mum's no fun."

Harry smiled reassuringly at him, vendetta forgotten. "We can just play something else, I guess."

Ron considered this. "Fine. Tag. You're it!"

* * *

Lily watched fondly as her son shot off after a small redhead - one of Molly's brood, obviously, and a good upstanding Light child she hoped would become one of Harry's closest friends - his pale feet making almost no sound on the dewy grass. She winced when Harry tripped and went sprawling, but James's presence at her elbow held her back from interfering. Perhaps, she thought with a frown, tag was not such a safe game to be playing after all.

"Ha!" her son's triumphant shout brought her out of her musings. "I got you, Nev! Now you're it!"

Lily watched as the Longbottom boy - Neville? - obligingly tried to catch one of the other children. She had invited ten of them, all around Harry's age (although there were a few older siblings unfortunate enough to have been dragged along for whatever reason) and all raised by acquaintances of hers. Lily repressed a bitter smile. Really, she could think of nothing the Longbottom boy excelled at in which Harry could not easily beat him. Her smile turned into a concerned frown. Her son was so talented at everything, surely he would be the one -

No. She refused to consider that. She had taken steps to ensure that her son would _not _be the one, and that was that. No use dwelling on it.

She redirected her eyes to the game at hand just as the clumsy boy managed to tag a blonde girl running along the tree line. A few feet away from Lily, the girl's mother warned her daughter not to go into the forest, it was too dangerous. Lily could not agree more. She had taken great pains to impress upon Harry the fact that, though the Potter family owned it, he was not to go into the woods. There were creatures in there, and it was so easy for a small boy to get injured or lost. Lily wanted her son in absolutely no danger.

"All right!" the impromptu game of tag was called to an end as James stepped out onto the lawn, arms raised and lips peeled back in a playful smile. "Time for phase two! Everyone, come over here. Presents!"

Harry immediately dashed into his seat and cast his eyes around at all of the brilliantly coloured parcels decorating the table.

"Open mine first!" Neville urged as he plopped down next to his friend. "It's really cool!"

Harry glanced at his mother for permission before attacking the package. Petal lips smiled gleefully at its contents - a stuffed dragon enchanted to fly around and breathe colourful bubbles when commanded - and squealed his thanks, immediately reaching for another. The rest of the considerable pile of gifts was attended to in much the same way; grab a package, rip it apart, thank the donor, and repeat.

"Who's this one from?" Harry questioned as he was nearing the end. He held up a green parcel, slight and rectangular in shape. Lily frowned.

"Harry, baby, I think we should hold off on opening that one just yet," she murmured hurriedly, suddenly frightened. What if it was from a Death Eater? "It's probably from Remus, and he'd want to be here..."

The excuse was poorly thought-out, but her son did not seem to notice. His uncle would not be coming until later that evening (they were going to have a private celebration, just Harry, his parents, and his "uncles") and he could understand waiting until then.

"No," two boys who looked about five or six and who Lily recognized as more Weasleys piped up.

"That's from us-"

"Just didn't reconize it at first."

Lily relaxed, feeling immensely foolish. She'd overreacted, then. Nothing to worry about.

"Oh," she said.

* * *

Harry swung his feet in boredom. The party had ended three hours go and all of his new friends had left. He was now holed up in his room, surrounded by his presents, and lounging on his bed. It was dead _boring_. He wondered idly when the Marauders (his father sometimes called them that, and Harry rather liked the name) would be arriving. He couldn't wait to see Sirius and Remus. Sirius would do something dimwitted but hilarious, and he hadn't seen Remus in ages...

Harry frowned. Peter would be coming, too, wouldn't he?

It was not that Harry disliked Peter Pettigrew - quite the opposite, in fact, as he rather adored the man - but it made Harry distinctly uncomfortable to see the way his father and other uncles treat him. They were clearly friends, the lot of them, and they were never rude; and yet... Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. He did not know what it was, really, but something about the way they interacted with his Uncle Peter upset him. It was as if they disregarded the man, took him for granted.

Seeing all of his uncles together at once could be awkward and distressing for Harry because he never was quite sure how to handle this problem.

A soft knocking at his door pulled Harry forcefully from his thoughts. A moment later, a pudgy arm appeared, followed by a soft-looking man with pale hair and kind blue eyes.

Harry jumped off his bed. "Uncle Peter!"

His uncle chuckled and closed the door behind himself. "Hey, Harry! How's your day been?" He ambled over to Harry's side and pulled the boy into a tight embrace. "I saw all the destruction outside. Did Sirius beat me here again?"

Harry giggled and returned the hug. He loved when his uncle was like this. Though Peter closed up and became nervous and distant around his friends and Lily, he was fun and easygoing when he was alone with Harry. Privately, Harry liked to think that his uncle's true personality was a well-kept secret between just the two of them.

"No, silly!" he giggled. "I had a party!"

His uncle looked confused. "A party, you say?"

Harry smacked him. "For my birthday!"

Peter looked even more confused, and slightly horrified at himself. "Your birthday? Dear-oh-dear, I had forgotten about that completely. Silly me. And here I didn't get you anything..." his confused look transformed into a playful smirk as he added, "Well, good thing I just happen to have an extra present laying around, then, hmm?"

He reached into his robes and produced a small red box, tied up securely with gold ribbon and decorated with a large bow. "Happy birthday, Har."

Harry squealed in delight, but he took great care to preserve the paper as he unwrapped his gift. If the hand painted snakes decorating the crimson paper were anything to go by, his uncle had poured much time and attention into this, and Harry wanted to preserve that thoughtfulness forever. His Uncle Peter was the only one who knew how much Harry liked snakes.

"Oh..." Harry whispered in awe as he opened the box, "Wow..."

Peter smiled. "I thought you would like it. I found it in my vault." He lifted the pendant from his nephew's hands and settled the thin silver chain delicately around the boy's neck. "I suppose it's a little unorthodox, since you're not really of my blood, but... Well, I don't plan to have children, and I thought you should have it." He stroked Harry's cheek, eyes gentle. "This pendant is the Pettigrew crest, and wearing it signifies the heir apparent. By giving it to you, I have acknowledged you as the heir to all that I have."

"Thank you!" Harry's eyes moistened and he threw his arms around Peter. "I'll never take it off!"

There was slight sadness on Peter's face, but he grinned, "You're welcome, H-"

"-Arry!"

They broke apart with twin grimaces as they heard Sirius shouting from the foyer. Although he had a lovely speaking voice, Sirius Black tended to squeak like a preteen when he was yelling. "Hey, kiddo, come give ol' Padfoot a hug!"

Peter sighed fondly, the moment over. "Downstairs, then?"

Harry followed diligently as his uncle led the way out of the room, and fingered the pendant bouncing proudly against his chest. As he passed through the doorway, he paused, getting a flicker of that sixth sense that advised him when secrecy was best; he frowned, but tucked the chain under his shirt. He didn't like covering up the beautiful crest - an elegant unicorn curled around an ornate black rose and a single "P" etched into the frosted silver - but he realized that he did not want his parents to see it, and surmised that secrecy was probably better, anyway. He didn't understand why, he just knew it would be.

His uncle nodded in understanding and approval as his eyes flickered over the near-invisible bulge beneath Harry's shirt. He took Harry's hand in his own as they walked down the hallway, and though Harry smiled in return, he felt sadness and indignation settling heavily on his shoulders as he Peter's posture slumped, his face tinged itself with anxiety, and his very stride began to reflect a bumbling uncertainty Harry did not believe his uncle truly felt. Harry was almost positive that Peter's act around his friends was just that, an act, and Harry thought, furiously, that it was wrong that his uncle should think that he must affect to behave that way. Harry could not imagine hiding his true self from his loved ones. It simply wasn't right.

* * *

"Your turn, Harry," Remus said gently as he offered the boy the pot of Floo powder. Harry frowned but diligently took a handful. He hated Flooing. In his opinion, the Floo Network was pure evil and ought never to have been created in the first place. All this business of shouting and spinning - it was downright obnoxious, and dizzying to boot.

For Harry's family-only party, James had elected to take them out to a nice, rustic restaurant in Hogsmeade. They would eat dinner and Harry would open his gifts from his uncles there, then Floo back home. Lily had been very nervous about this idea - Harry did not quite know why - but relented when James promised that they would be back well before dark, completely safe.

Harry faced the ornate white fireplace, large enough to fit several adults within itself at the same time, and tossed his handful of shimmering powder into the roaring blaze. The flames turned green, and he said clearly, "Barker's Restaurant, Hogsmeade!"

He stepped into the flames, feeling them licking playfully all the way up to his shoulders; his stomach dropped as he began to spin rapidly, and he clenched his eyes tightly closed in an attempt to quell the ensuing nausea.

A moment later, it was over, but his head still swam horribly and stomach seemed to have no intention of settling anytime soon. Harry reflected grouchily that, surely, this was the absolute _best _way to arrive at an eatery, feeling as though he was going to spew all over his shoes.

"Hey, kiddo!" Sirius greeted him loudly as Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and went to stand next to James, who had gone ahead with his best friend.

Behind Harry, the flames shifted colours again as Remus gingerly stepped out, looking ill. Lily followed a moment later. The fair-skinned witch immediately took Harry's hand and led him over to the heavy oak door separating the Arrival Room from the main restaurant, surreptitiously inspecting him for injuries when she thought he wasn't looking.

Harry didn't notice, though. His eyes were skimming wildly over everything surrounding himself. He had been here several times now, of course, but he never got tired of examining the decorations. The building was small, but it was a cozy small, with deep brown hardwood floors and walls painted a soft creamy beige. Sturdily built wooden tables were strewn strategically about the place, their lines straight and clean, and a delicately carved ceiling fan whirled lazily, spreading the enticing scents of freshly-baked foods to dance invitingly around his nose. The entire place was lit by soft warm light, and the feel was welcoming and relaxing.

The food was nothing to complain about, either, Harry reflected indolently a while later as he took a bite of his potatoes, spooning a heap over his roast chicken as well. He scowled playfully when Sirius stole a piece, but smiled again when Remus slid a few carrots onto his plate to compensate.

Harry ate them gladly. Any food that was orange was okay in his book. Orange was a good colour.

"All right, Harry," his father said quite a bit later. He leaned back in his chair, hands settled comfortably over his very full stomach, hazel eyes sleepy with contentment. "Presents."

Sirius instantly popped up and shoved a violet bag into his nephew's hands. "Open mine first!"

Harry and Lily both snorted at that; Sirius could not have known, but he had just said nearly the exact same thing Neville had earlier that day. Neville, a four-year-old.

Nonetheless, Harry happily obeyed and yanked the flourescent yellow tissue paper out of the bag, beaming when he revealed its contents. "Cool!"

He shot his uncle another grin. Sirius ruffled his hair. "Doubt you'll be needing it," he said playfully, "But it's still nice to have around, and it's pretty neat to look at, too."

Harry tucked the sneakoscope to the side as Remus handed him his own gift (a picture book enchanted to change its story every time he read it, depending on his mood) and tucked that to the side as well when he opened his parents' gifts (dress robes, ugh, and a few new shirts). His uncle Peter winked at Harry when he presented him with his gift, a generic stuffed animal to add to Harry's already epic collection, and Harry was grateful to realize that the Pettigrew crest really would be their secret.

Finally, after a round of coffee for the adults and a spot of ice-cream for Harry (which Lily, of course, disapproved of, as he'd already had some that day), James announced that it was time to return to Godric's Hollow. Harry wholeheartedly agreed, his eyelids drooping; he had had way too much stimulation this day, and he was beyond ready to go to bed.

"Farewell, Mr. Po-" the manager began as Harry's family headed back to the Arrival Room. He broke off, though as a chorus of screams and hollers assaulted the gentle atmosphere, and all of the adults whirled around to face the main door, wands out.

"What the-?" Sirius asked, frowning. A moment later, an emphatic _boom_ erupted. The shrieks escalated in volume and desperation, and Harry whimpered. Insane female cackling could be heard. Lily paled.

"Death Eaters," James hissed. "That's the Lestrange bitch's laugh, I'd know it anywhere."

"James," Lily's voice trembled. "James - Harry - we have to get Harry home!"

James nodded, reaching for the Floo powder by the restaurant's fireplace and casting it into the now-intolerably cheerful blaze. "Godric's Hollow!" he shouted. Nothing happened.

Remus growled. "They'll have set up wards, then. No Floo, no portkeys, no apparition."

Lily pulled a trembling Harry close to herself, encircling him with her arms. "What do we do? They're sure to come in here eventually - they'll be attacking the whole village - oh, _Harry _- what do we do?"

Remus's growls deepened in pitch. Sirius fingered his wand angrily. James hugged his wife briefly, hissing, "The only thing we can; we'll make a break for it. They'll only have warded the village itself... if we can make it to the forest, we can portkey home." He nodded at Sirius and Remus. "You two and I will go fight and help whoever we can. Lily, you and Peter take Harry and run. We'll cover you as long as we're able."

Lily sobbed, but nodded. She couldn't think. It was like her mind was paralyzed with fear, and her only thought was that she had to protect her baby, had to get him out of this nightmare. If there were any flaws in her husband's plan, she didn't notice.

"Right," James seized control again, "Disillusionment charms on you three. On my count, we go."

* * *

Finally, something happens. My apologies about the cliffness of this hanger, but it'll all play out in the next chapter.

Review! Remember, I'm needy.


	3. Raid

A/N: -ranting and cursing fluently enough to make even the hardiest sailor blush- Ack! I _hate _writer's block! I had fully intended to have this chapter posted on Saturday... well, come Tuesday night, I was still staring at a blank screen... gack! So if this chapter seems a bit awkward, you will know why. I suppose we should just be thankful that I got anything out at all.

My biggest, most sincere apologies for the lateness of this! I will try my hardest to _never _let this happen again.

Also, some of the character's thoughts/reactions - their moods, if you will - may seem strange. I did this (mostly) intentionally. I have never written anything even slightly like a battle scene before, but I figured that the unexpectedness of the raid coupled with concern for Harry would make everyone slightly illogical and perhaps in a bit of shock. I tried to convey that with all the somewhat random thoughts and frequent point-of-view shifts. I dunno - did I succeed?

* * *

Remus Lupin did not like this plan. At all. In his opinion, leaving the most defenseless person - a mere four-year-old - in the hands of a housewife and a bumbling incompetant was sheer madnesss, especially considering the presence of the two trained aurors and a werewolf who could protect the child much better. Lily was a good duelist, certainly, and Peter would do his best to protect Harry, but the fact remained that neither of them was combat trained, and both were disconcertingly likely to panic if confronted. He did not understand what James had been thinking, breaking them up this way. It was irresponsible. Harry was in danger.

Moony growled. No, he did not like this plan at all.

He liked it even less when the shimmers that had been jogging along behind him continued straight forward, while he himself was forced to veer to the side. Moony was screaming at him the fuck the plan, follow them, and protect the cub; Remus gritted his teeth and ignored him.

Harry would be fine, he reassured himself. Lily and Peter were capable. They could protect the cub. They'd be fine. Remus repeated this mantra in his head over and over again, trying to calm himself.

Although, if the pained shriek of the Death Eater he had just attacked was anything to go by, it wasn't working.

* * *

Harry was terrified. He was a big boy; he could admit this.

It had only taken Harry two minutes of being outside to decide that he really, really did not like battles. They were much too chaotic. Everywhere he looked, people were running and scrambling, their brightly-coloured spellwork burning his eyes; screams and cackles threatened to burst his eardrums, and the cloying scents of rage and fear coated his his tongue and the back of his throat. His head was spinning. His own fear was causing his gorge to rise. He felt like he was going to faint.

But that wan't the worst part. No, the worst part was, in his overwhelming confusion, he had gotten lost. He was certain that his mother had been just ahead of him only a few minutes ago, his uncle just behind, but now there were no shimmers in sight, and he was quite sure that he had no idea where he was.

With a gasp, Harry fell forward onto the ground, skinning his cheek and skidding forward a good few feet. The witch that had knocked him down had already rushed away, completely unaware of the child she had just trampled. Harry whimpered. He tried to clamber back to his feet, but there were too many people, and every time he started to get back up, some terrified individual would slam into him and knock him back to the ground. Emerald eyes brimmed with tears as he desperately began to crawl forward on stinging hands and knees, fighting his way through the swarming crowd toward the treeline he was sure he had glimpsed a moment ago.

Suddenly, everything went still and Harry's view of the trees was unobstructed.

* * *

Peter swore. He could not believe how careless he had been. He had trusted Lily, the worthless flake, to take care of Harry while he himself doubled back and created a little mayhem.

He had never expected, not in a million years, that the Dark Lord's followers would choose _this _nigt to attack. And Hogsmeade, of all places! No one had told him! He wondered for a horrified moment if perhaps his loyalties were suspect and he had purposefully been left out of the loop. But that was unlikely; the Dark Lord trusted him implicitly, or at least as much as he trusted anyone.

Actually, put that way, he had a lot of groveling to do.

But not right now. Right now, he had to find Harry and get the poor kid to safety.

Peter vaguely recalled a witch darting in front of him and a startled yelping sound. He had assumed that the bitch had just tripped; it appeared he had been wrong. Peter had been following the tell-tale shimmer of the Disillusioned Harry, but because the boy was so small and his shimmer had blended in with that of his mother's just in front of him, Peter had not noticed when the boy had disappeared.

So, Peter concluded, trying to remain logical in the face of overwhelming panic, Harry was, in all likelihood, just a few hundred yards back, probably in that little clearing with all the trees.

And all the Death Eaters.

Harry was surrounded by Death Eaters.

* * *

_Don't panic,_ Harry cautioned himself. _They haven't seen you..._

That stupid Disillusionment Charm - which was at least part of the reason he was stuck here in the first place - was now the only thing standing between him and a whole gang of Death Eaters.

Harry was vaguely aware of what a Death Eater was - he had heard a few of his father's and Sirius's auror stories - but he knew that they were 'bad men', and he knew that he definitely did not want them to discover his presence.

Luckily, though, they had not even glanced his way; so intent were they on their little meeting. He would, be thought, begin crawling into the trees and make a break for it soon. As soon as he could feel his extremities again and his legs stopped trembling.

"Well?" A drawling voice demanded somewhere to Harry's left, his fall of long white-blonde hair making him easily distinguishable amongst the other six black-clad figures. "Did you succeed?"

A shorter figure answered in a nervous, higher-pitched voice. "No - the old man got away."

The blonde figure hissed furiously. "Our Lord will not be pleased."

The smaller figure shuddered. "I tried my hardest, but he was too - "

The blonde hissed again, cutting the other man off. "Save it for Him. I neither need nor desire to hear your pathetic excuses. Because of your incompetence, we will all be punished."

All seven of the figures trembled at this. The blonde sneered, pink lips clearly visible beneath his white half-mask, and lifted his wand, waving it about in complicated patterns while muttering under his breath.

"Come," he said at last. "We must not keep Him waiting."

With these words, Harry was finally released from the spell of fear that had been holding him petrified, and he unconciously took a step forward. A twig snapped, and he froze again. All of the Death Eaters whirled around to focus on him, eyes narrowed.

"A spy!" The blonde snarled. "Finite Incantatem!"

* * *

Peter had been willing to hold still for awhile. It was nerve-wracking as hell, and he'd have liked nothing more than to charge in and spirit Harry away, but as long as no one noticed the boy, he would be safe enough.

Peter had nearly cried in relief when he felt the anti-apparition wards drop, coutesy of Lucious. Now they would be leaving, and he could step in to get Harry.

But when that horrid little twig snapped and they forced the Disillusionment Charm to drop...

Cover be damned! He was visible now - he had canceled his own charm in the hopes that Harry would see him and come running - but secrecy could bugger itself; he no longer cared who saw him. All he cared about was getting Harry out of there before one of those bastards cursed him.

"Harry!" he shouted, barelling full-force through the assembled Death Eaters, knocking one or two to the ground, and throwing his pudgy arms around the child. He whipped out his wand to Disapparate the both of them, but a quick spell from a heavy-set man sent it flying from his grip.

"Pettigrew." The man snarled. "What are you doing?"

A pale hand pluked the wand from the man's fist. "Obviously," Lucius murmured, "He is a traitor."

Beside him, Bellatrix Lestrange screamed.

* * *

Lucius smirked. He had never liked Peter Pettigrew. The man was awkward, crass, incompetent, and not much more powerful than a squib. Lucius had wanted Pettigrew dead from the very moment he had first learned he would have to 'work' with him, but hadn't wanted to endure the punishment their Master would undoubtably dole out for daring to kill one of his followers.

However, Lucius Malfoy was very much an opportunist. Therefore, when the fool had revealed himself in a misguided attempt to protect that tiny child, Lucius had seized on the chance to have Peter Petttigrew exterminated and he himself free of blame; Bellatrix Lestrange hated traitors, more than anything else, and the insinuation that one of their own was just that was more than enough to send her hurtling over the killing edge.

Aristocratic lips twitched in another smirk as Bellatrix screamed again, an incoherent stream of furious accusations pouring from her mouth, and whirled to hurl a curse at the filthy rat, eyes glimmering madly.

Lucius did not fully understand what happened next. Where there should have been agonized shrieks in respose to Bellatrix's Cruciatus, there was only eerie, oppressive silence that weighed heavily on his skin and hampered his ability to breathe. He had the uncomfortable sensation of the world freezing, time coming to a halt, and all the enery around him draining away before rushing back, full-force, with an explosive _clap! _not unlike that of thunder. A brilliant light, so bright he could never hope to tell its color, began circling around the little clearing like a tornado, great gusts of it whipping his hair and robes about wildly.

Around him, his fellow Death Eaters, frozen just as he was, shook and whimpered: then, one by one, they exploded. Or perhaps imploded. He did not know; he could not think of a suitable word for what he was seeing.

"Harry..." A choked voice murmured. "Harry... you... okay... have to... go..."

_The boy_, Lucius realized in the sluggish way of one far gone in shock. _The storm is coming from the boy._

"Harry," the weak voice tried again. "Safe now..."

Just as soon as it had started, the storm stopped. Lucius slumped to his knees as movement returned to his body. His horribly unfocused silver eyes caught sight of an unconcious child beeing lifted by a trembling Pettigrew before the two Disapparated.

Yes, Lucius was an opportunist, but he was also a survivor. He followed suit.

* * *

"Explain this to me again." The Dark Lord Voldemort hissed to his trembling servant, crimson eyes flashing dangerously. "Explain to me, Lucius, how it comes to be that you not only _failed _your mission, but got _six of my Death Eaters killed._"

The arrogant man's ordinarily pristine porcelaine skin was sallow and washed out, nerves forcing a thin sheen of sweat to bead along the surface; the heavy stench of terror cloaked him like a miasma, and tangled blonde hair lent him the appearance of a madman. His hands shook slightly and his voice trembled as he once again repeated his tale.

But Voldemort wasn't listening. He had had Lucius tell him this once already; the man was ordered to repeat it only because it made him wondefully afraid and somewhat quelled the Dark Lord's need to punish someone.

The trembling voice morphed into screams of pain as Voldemort idly cast the Cruciatus curse on the man. There. Now he felt better.

"You may go, Lucius," he said after a few minutes. "Do not come to me again until I summon you."

The blonde was only too grateful to comply and dashed out of the chamber as hastily as his Cruciatus-weakened legs would allow.

Voldemort sat down on his throne as soon as he was alone, staring blankly out at his surroundings. The chamber he liked to hail his Death Eaters and receive reports in was a grand thing, with high, vaunted ceilings and torches every few yards or so that cast flickering shadows along the already dark stone walls. It was a deliciously creepy room, really.

But he did not appreciate this at the moment. No, at the moment, he was far too busy thinking on all that had happened this day, all that he had learned.

He had sent a small force of his Death Eaters to Hogsmeade with a simple enough mission. They were to create as much terror and chaos as possible (something at which they were exceptionally skilled) and kill as many people as they liked. The numbers were not truly important, as the Light side had a tendency to mourn even a single fatality, but there was one wizard in particular that they _had _to kill, one wizard who had been the entire reason behind the attack.

Lord Voldemort had ordered his Death Eaters to do whatever was necessary to kill Aberforth Dumbledore, and they had failed. Horribly.

Voldemort had been absolutely livid when Lucius revealed this fact. He was calming down now, though, seeing that this was not the worst possible thing that could have happened. True, he had intended the man's death to be a slap in the face to his blasted brother Albus, the hideous old bastard. Voldemort knew that Dumbledore would have recognized the death, seemingly random amidst the other casualties of the raid, for the threat that it was: _Look, Dumbles, look at what I know. I know your secrets. I am unafraid. If you challenge me, I will reveal them, and this is what you will get. _It was a daring ploy, perhaps arrogant even, but he wanted to see the old coot squirm.

However, perhaps it was for the best that Aberforth had survived, especially because he had seen the Death Eaters coming for him and would have instantly known why. Now, he would run to his brother like the coward he was, and Voldemort would have the pleasure of both tormenting Albus with veiled threats to reveal his secrets and slaughtering his last-living kin. People always were more attached to things they thought they might soon lose.

He sighed, massaging his temples. This issue was solved; on to the more pressing one.

Lucius had described to him the most - well, he was unsure if it was impressive or distressing, really - _intriguing _way six of his Death Eaters had died.

He was not truly upset about the deaths, of course, althought Bellatrix Lestrange had been a loyal and powerful servant. No, he was more concerned about the _way _they had died. Lucius had described to him what sounded like a magical storm - something only incredibly powerful wizards were capable of, and only then after intensive training - but had insisted that it had come from a mere toddler.

"James Potter's son," the blonde had said. "I recognized him from a benefit luncheon."

Voldemort did not understand what had happened, how a child could have created such a force. He did not like things he did not understand. But he was curious, so curious.

Dumbledore had always said that arrogance would be Voldemort's downfall. Apparently, he had not known of his curiousity.

_"Nagini." _Voldemort hissed after a few more minutes of pondering. "_I have a mission for you._"

The huge snake slithered out from one of the shadows lining the far wall of the chamber, ebony scales glittering a deep green in the dancing torchlight.

_"Yes, my Master?"_

_"Go to this place," _he projected an image of Godric's Hollow he had stolen from Pettigrew into her mind, _"And spy on the family. There is a little boy living there about whom I would like to know more."_

"_Of course, my Master." _The snake coiled in upon herself and, in a rare show of an ability none but the Dark Lord and she herself knew she posessed, vanished.

Voldemort leaned back in his throne once again. He supposed he ought to have a word with a certain rat, now that he thought about it. He knew Peter was no traitor - how well he knew it - and in all likelihood had an emotional attachment to the child that had prompted him to act so foolishly. But it would not do to have the man think he would be so easily forgiven... and besides, in light of these new developments, perhaps he might be put to even better use.

A pleased smirk lifted the corners of the Dark Lord's mouth as he considered his options.

* * *

Harry collapsed onto his bed in a boneless heap, not even bothering to change into his pajamas. He was completely exhausted, and was eager to end what was hands-down the worst birthday he had ever had.

His memories of the past few hours were blurry, but he did know that he must have passed out at some point during the raid because one moment he had seven wands pointed at him and the next he was being passed from his uncle's arms to those of his mother.

Lily Potter had begged him to forgive her, sobbing uncontrollably, pleaded with him not to hate her for her failure to protect him. She had clung to him so tightly that he thought he would never be able to breathe again. She had refused to release him until James, Sirus and Remus showed up almost an hour later, haggard but unharmed, and James had carefully extracted Harry from the suffocating embrace.

The adults had started arguing in fatigued voices almost immediately, and Harry had taken that as his cue to quietly slip off to bed. He didn't think they would want him to have heard, anyway.

His last thought before slipping into unconciousness was, oddly enough, that he was glad Remus had had the foresight to banish his gifts back to the house before they all stood up to leave. He smiled. He would have hated to lose those.

* * *

Nagini looked around herself with the serpentine equivolent of a disdainful sneer. Really, this place was so very _Gryffindor._

* * *

A/N: And... done! That nearly killed me, it did. Writer's block is a terrible thing.

But, hark! What is this? A plot...? Review and we'll see!


	4. Wards

A/N: Yes. I am the queen of late updates. Bow before my slacker powers! ...Actually, though, this one wasn't my fault; my Internet decided to up and die on me. I was just happily surfing along, thinking, "Well, I prolly oughta be uploading now," when it smirks at me, goes _pbtth, _and disconnects. Grr. But I got it back speedily enough.

There's a potshot to Aberforth's love of goats in here, by the way. I couldn't resist.

And... I dunno... is Lordy Vee out of character?

* * *

Pudgy shoulders shook in poorly repressed terror as Peter Pettigrew shuffled to the edge of his friends' property, wand hand trembling so badly he could barely lift it to Disapparate. Honestly, he was not sure if he was up to the task of transporting himself, and wished desperately that he could have taken James up on his offer of sanctuary and a warm bed for the night.

But his left arm was burning, and He could not be ignored.

With a heavy sigh, Peter disappeared.

* * *

"I see," Albus murmured slowly, cold blue eyes narrowed as he studied his brother calculatingly. "This is most troubling."

Aberforth made a pained noise somewhere between a snort and a shriek. "Troubling, Albus? This is far more than troubling. The Dark Lord tried to have me killed!"

Albus Dumbledore's gaze turned pensive as his mind wandered inward. "Yes, and to get to me, no doubt... Perhaps a threat? But why attack an entire village? And so near Hogwarts? Unless - "

This time, the interrupting noise issuing from Aberforth was purely snort, angry and mocking. "Of course, Albus, of course. Twenty-seven casualties, nearly twenty-eight, and it was all just a plot to annoy you. Naturally. Why didn't I think of that?"

Those ice-blue eyes flashed dangerously. "You did not think of that, Aberforth, because you are a self-obsessed fool. You look not at the larger picture but at your own petty grievances. Rest assured, Tom planned this attack as a message to me, a threat. He wanted me to know that my family is not safe, that I am not safe. He is arrogant." Albus paused. "I will not have Lord Voldemort using you against me. You will be going into hiding."

Aberforth sighed and nodded. _Lucky me_, he thought, repressing another snort at his brother's warped logic. To the Wizarding World, Albus Dumbledore was a noble figurehead of the Light, a shining warrior; but to Aberforth, his brother was little more than a puffed-up old codger with a god complex and hypocritical mind-set.

"Very well, Albus," he relented. "I'll go find myself a bed somewhere and we'll hammer out the details in the morning."

At any rate, it was best to let Albus have his way for the time being. Aberforth could always change his mind later.

"See that you do," Albus said with the self-satisfied air of one who has just won a convoluted argument. "And see to it that it is within the castle walls - not, say, within the livestock pens."

Aberforth's eyebrow twitched violently. Honestly, that was _one time._"Come in," Albus called benignly just twenty minutes later, grandfatherly persona firmly back in place.

* * *

The door to his office opened slowly, pushed by a delicate ivory hand. "Albus." Lily Potter's soft voice wafted over to him, trembling and weak with shock.

"Lily," he answered calmly.

"You have heard of the attack?"

He nodded. "I have."

She settled herself numbly into a chair in front of him. "We were there."

He reached across his desk and placed a consoling hand on one of her own, softening his eyes.

"Harry, too."

"I see," Albus murmured gently. "ls he alright?"

Lily choked back a sob. "Yes, no thanks to me... Albus, I..."

He pulled back his hand as her own clenched into tight fists, her head bowed and eyes shimmering with tears. Her shoulders curled in upon themselves and her entire body shook with misery and tension. "Albus, I... I couldn't protect him!" Her head shot up and emerald eyes stared at him wildly, pale cheeks flushed with color. "I was wrong! I thought I could - thought if I tried hard enough - I've been trying _so _hard - wasn't enough - got hurt - oh, _Harry_ - I -"

"Lily." He cut her off. "Explain."

Pupils still dilated and voice still quavering in terror, she did. As her tale wound to an end, Albus stood from his chair and strode to her side, laying a gnarled hand gently in her fiery hair.

"Lily," he said after a long moment, "You must understand that none of this is your fault, and Harry is fine regardless."

The delicate woman loosed a harsh laugh. "Not my fault? I'm supposed to be his _mother_, Albus! I'm supposed to protect him! And instead - what? I leave my own child to deal with Death Eaters!" She glared at his parted lips that prepared to interrupt her. "No. There are no excuses for what I did. I should have paid closer attention, should have kept a hand on him, should have - well, there are any number of things I should have done! But I didn't."

She took a breath. "That is why I am here, Albus; I should have done better, and I didn't. I thought I was better qualified for this than I am. Albus, I need your help protecting Harry. The Dark Lord barely knows that he exists and already I have nearly enabled his death. _Help me._"

Albus sighed. There really was no way around this, and perhaps it would be for the best in the end, anyway. "Of course, my dear." He reassured, eyes twinkling benevolently. "I will come by Godric's Hollow on the morrow and set up wards, if you like."

Lily nodded, eyes shining up at him in gratitude. "Thank you, Albus."

He patted her hair again and kindly dismissed her.

Just like he would with a beloved pet, really.

What an odd thought.

* * *

"Are you loyal to me, Pettigrew?" The Dark Lord purred softly, circling around said Death Eater with a dangerous smirk lifting the corners of his full lips. "Lucius Malfoy has just told me the most interesting story that makes it sound as though you are not."

The rat trembled. "Of - of course, my Lord."

Voldemort tsked. "Hmm. And yet, you get in the way during a raid and think to protect a child against my forces. I wonder why that was?"

The trembling intensified, and a very pronounced stutter made itself known. "I m-merely d-d-did not w-want any child to be k-killed, my Lord."

The Dark Lord laughed, a rich, full-throated, but inherently cruel sound. "Ah, Peter, you do not truly expect me to believe that?" All semblance of mirth fled from his voice as it become cold and demanding. "Now, no lies. Tell me."

"He is my n-nephew, my Lord." The man said at long last, tongue loosened, perhaps, by the length of yew pointed indolently at his body. He hesitated over his next words, clearly unwilling to give his cruel master any emotional leverage over himself. "A... a treasured nephew, my only. Rationality fled from me when I saw that his life was threatened."

The Dark Lord tsked again. "Is that all?"

The rat blanched. "All, my Lord?"

"I know when I am being fed half-truths, Peter. What else is the boy to you?"

There was a silence, long as the man dared make it. Finally, he bit out, "He is my heir, my Lord. I named him so earlier this day."

Voldemort felt his smirk grow into what could almost be described as a grin, albeit a demented one. Well, this was an interesting development.

But best not to let the lackeys know he was pleased.

"Your heir? Hmm. I would hope that, in the future, your attachment to him does not impede your duties or judgement as a Death Eater. _Crucio._

"You have disappointed me this day, Peter. See that it does not happen again. You may go."

As the man raised himself from where he had fallen to the floor, Voldemort held up a hand, frowning. "Oh, I had almost forgotten."

"My Lord?"

"_Obliviate._" Voldemort strolled over to Pettigrew. "You will not remember this conversation. You will not remember my interest in Harry Potter. You will not remember anything about today's raid except grabbing Harry and bolting for safety. You will think Aurors must have killed my fallen Death Eaters. You will, however, feel an intense need to monitor and protect Harry at all times, and subtly influence him to favor the Dark. Return to your home now, my servant, and heed my orders."

A sharp _crack _followed these last words; finally, the Dark Lord allowed his pleasure to show itself.

In truth, Peter Pettigrew had always been a very useful tool for Lord Voldemort. His close friendship with James Potter and Sirius Black as well as his status as a member of that dratted Order of the Phoenix meant that he was able to pass on information about both the Ministry and Dumbledore to his Lord with relative ease and frequency. His diminutive Animagus form lent him great stealth as a spy, and his more than capable wand work made him a menace on the battle field.

The Dark Lord supposed he ought to have thanked James Potter for this servant, really, as it was the man's crass arrogance and gross unappreciation that had driven Pettigrew to his side, but - well, the thought of thanking a Potter made him vaguely nauseous. (Actually, the thought of thanking anyone for anything was not much better.)

But no matter. The point was, Peter Pettigrew had always been a loyal, valuable follower; and now, his value had all but tripled. He would use Peter as an extra means of surveillance on that fascinating little boy, in hopes that between the man and Nagini some light could be shed on just what made the child so powerful.

And, though Voldemort had not yet decided what to do with the child when this knowledge was gained, he reasoned that it never hurt to keep one's options open. Thus, if Peter were able to lead the boy away from the Light side, so much the better.

He smirked. Perhaps the old adage was not true, after all - for him, good help seemed rather easy to find.

* * *

Harry flipped idly through his new storybook. slender legs swinging lazily back and forth, back and forth. The story kept changing from one page to the next, like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be about. Harry frowned; it was supposed to tell him a story that reflected his mood - this reflection made it seem like he had inner turmoil.

He did not feel like he had inner turmoil. Rather, he felt tired, possibly gassy, and more than a bit confused.

Harry did not remember how his Uncle Peter had saved him, did not understand why the man had seemed so terrified when he had tried to ask. He did not understand why his mother had become a nervous wreck literally overnight. She was acting as though the attack was the end of the world. Sure, it was scary - he shuddered in the early morning light; definitely scary - but it had been a simple case of wrong place/wrong time, his family was fine, and that was that.

Except, he amended as he glanced out his bedroom window, that was apparently _not _that, if the sight of the funny old man casting charms around his parents' property was anything to go by. Wards, he remembered. His mother had said that Dumbledore would be putting up wards.

Why, though? Harry wondered. It wasn't like Death Eaters were going to single out and stage a raid at _his _home. So why the wards?

Harry sighed. Maybe his mum was just barmy...

* * *

Nagini hissed in contempt as she watched the scene before her. Not ten minutes after that positively _hideous _old man had left - and, oh, but she did not want to think of that, for then she would have to deal with the fact that she was _stuck _here, and had no idea how to rectify such a situation - a ridiculous young man with horrid hair had come rushing out of his even more horrid home and proceeded to fly around the air on some silly broom.

And promptly fallen off, she added smugly. Really, did the clumsy fool not understand just what a ward was?

Blast. She hadn't wanted to think of that; here she was, the grand and exalted familiar of the Darkest wizard in Salazar-knew-how-long, and she was trapped in Godric's Hollow, of all places, because of a useless old codger and her master's incessant curiosity.

She hissed. Plainly put, this sucked.

"Hey, Lils!" The irritating man dared to rip her from her brooding. "Great news! The wards work!" He sounded, Nagini thought with distaste, almost as though he were _glad _that his nose had nearly been broken. She gave a disdainful sniff. Light wizards.

"So the coast is clear! Can Harry come out and play?"

The man sounded, of all things, like a four-year-old - making him perfect company, really, for the small boy that came rushing out of the house immediately following his words. Nagini stiffened at the sight of the child, hood flaring and tongue flicking out. Well, she reasoned, if she was going to be stuck here, she might as well do what she came to do. Arranging her coils neatly, Nagini settled in for a good lurk.

* * *

James Potter laughed in unbridled joy as he swooped low on his broomstick, darting mere feet over his son's head. Nothing released stress like a good ol' game of Quidditch. It was sound advice, he thought, and considering the amount of stress his family had recently been dealt, a good ol' game of Quidditch was precisely what the doctor ordered.

"Hey, kiddo, catch!" They weren't playing true Quidditch, of course, but the red Quaffle he tossed to Harry was entertaining enough, and plenty enjoyable.

Harry caught it easily, and James grinned. Already, his son was showing spectacular reflexes. He'd make a great Quidditch player one day... James's grin widened; he could just see it now, Gryffindor captain, leading his House to victory, someday professional...

"Catch, Dad!" A sharp _thwack _against his head chased away the dancing images. James scrambled to latch onto the red ball as he glanced at the laughing child hovering off to his left, an impish grin playing on petal lips.

Opting to be mature, he stuck his tongue out at his son. Harry laughed.

"All right, kiddo, try this!" James tossed the ball straight up into the air and darted away. "Better be quick, Har!"

The boy's eyes narrowed as he focussed on the rapidly climbing, and then more rapidly falling red globe; his fingers adjusted their grip on the wooden handle as his broom suddenly shot forward and down, racing to outpace the object so easily seduced by gravity.

Suddenly, Harry pulled out of his dive and leveled off, green eyes sparkling joyfully as he held the Quaffle high above his head. James could not have been prouder. True, the boy had not been flying very fast, nor very high off the ground, and had pulled out of his dive with ten feet still to go, but... Well, the kid was four! He was riding a training broom! That was amazing! Screw the Gryffindor team; Harry was going all the way to the World Cup!

"Great jo-"

"Harry!" A panicked shriek cut his congratulations off. "Harry, oh! Get down this instant!"

Lily rushed out onto the lawn, barefoot and flushed, eyes wide with fear. "James! How could you be so irresponsible! He could have been killed!"

James descended to the grass and dismounted, a confused frown marring his charming features. "Lils, um, aren't you overreacting a bit?"

"Overreacting! I am not _overreacting! _Our son nearly plastered himself to the ground, and you say I am overreacting!"

Said son had, by now, slunk his way back into the house, shoulders hunched in apprehension and confusion. With the boy safely out of earshot, James allowed irritation to color his voice. "Yes, Lily, I do. Because you are. We were just playing, dear, really. No one was going to get hurt."

His wife looked uncertain, and he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. "You act like everything's a death threat, Lils," He murmured gently into her hair, placing a soft kiss on her neck. "I know we've been through some terrifying things lately - hell, just the other day - but you need to relax. Need to," another kiss, "Loosen up."

He pulled his head back to look her in the eye. Hesitant emerald slowly darkened as she realized just how she might be able to loosen up. James smiled gently.

It had been, he reflected, too long

* * *

For the second time that day, Harry found himself seated on his bed with his story book open on his lap, gazing blankly down at the pictures.

He had absolutely no idea why his mum had reacted like that. He had only been playing Quidditch with his dad, after all - nothing dangerous about that.

He almost laughed when the story, up until then about a little girl in the woods, shifted to one about a man who couldn't find his Gobstones. It appeared the book was confused, too. Well, that was good. Harry did not want to be the only confused person.

* * *

A/N: Okay, in all honesty... I think this chapter sucked. I dunno why, I just do. Maybe it's a bit disjointed?

Also - **I need a beta. **Someone who I can bounce ideas off of and who is willing to screen for plot holes. No grammar/spelling expertise required - I don't really need anyone to check those - but someone who knows the books well would be appreciated. Just drop a note in a review or PM if you're interested, please.


	5. Mutt

A/N: I am so, SO sorry for how long this has taken! I sincerely hope that no one thought I had given up on this! Real Life ate me for breakfast, though. As a cereal. _Without milk. _(And if you got that reference, you watched WAY too much PBS as a child.)

No, but seriously, these past few weeks have been pure murder for me. I've had project after project after project due, out of nowhere; and I still have three essays due this next week, and then finals - because I don't get out until the eighteenth - so, I gotta warn you, the next chapter's probably going to be almost as tardy as this one was.

-sigh- This is a pretty slow chapter, in my opinion. It deals with basically only one thing, but at least it lays a lot of foundations for future plot points...

* * *

Soft lips turned down in an ill-tempered frown as Harry Potter pouted, sulking at the kitchen table. He blew a lock of messy hair out of his eyes, absently stirring his rapidly-cooling soup and scuffing his trainers against the glossy hardwood floor. He was, to put it plainly, not happy.

Just ten minutes prior - when he had been all geared up to enjoy a nice luncheon of chicken soup and cheese crackers - his mother had seen fit to wreck his previously pleasant day with an infuriating scrap of news: Harry, it seemed, would not have the privilege (although that horrible woman had referred to it as a "task") of returning to his Muggle primary school. She'd briefly outlined her reasoning and then had the nerve to pat his knee and announce that she was going to take a nap.

Harry huffed. She hadn't even had the decency to stay and watch his marvelous sulking. Really.

After about five more minutes of unappreciated theatrics, though, he was forced to give it up as a bad job and shove away from the table.

Warm air and bright sunshine greeted him as he slipped outside, a gentle breeze caressing his bared arms and legs. Harry took a moment to just appreciate the mid-August day and grin foolishly up at the distant trees. He loved summer.

On a whim, the small boy wrenched off his shoes; oxygen-starved toes basked in the sudden openness of their new environment. This added pleasantness too much for him, Harry forgot his troubles and charged off, racing around the backyard with no particular destination in mind. Laughter bubbled forth from his slender throat as he invented a sort of one-man tag, flitting from rock to puddle to flowerbed and finally into the treeline.

He was forced to stop, finally, when his lungs felt fit to burst and his calves could go no farther. A hand was lifted to rest against his waist; another sought to support him against a nearby tree trunk. The lighting here was patchy, he noted, the sun glinting through in those sporadic dots not blocked by the swaying canopy overhead. Combined with the slight chirping of birds and the chattering of some mad squirrel, it made for a relaxed and almost ethereal scene, and Harry felt himself drowsing within the serene atmosphere.

He shook his head. No, he wasn't even really allowed to be out here; best not to fall asleep.

With a mournful sigh, the small boy reluctantly began to tromp back toward his home, eyelids still lowered in indolent resistance. He closed them fully, then, deciding to make a game of stumbling back in self-imposed blindness - although this was, he realized quickly as he tripped over something very heavy and very thick, perhaps not the greatest of ideas. Picking himself off of the forest floor, Harry turned to glare at the offending object.

* * *

Nagini swore. Well, damn. This was a feat of stupidity worthy of a blood-traitor Gryffindor; surely one such as herself was above such things.

But, apparently, no.

She blamed the warmness of the sunshine, she really did, and the insufferably balmy air. (The soothing semi-darkness and mossy lushness of the forest might have contributed a large portion of the problem as well.) There she was, supposed to be observing the Potter brat, and what had she been doing instead? Sleeping - although, if ever asked, she'd deny it; she'd insist that she had merely been _resting_ - and stretching herself out on a patch of that evil moss. And, apparently, doing double duty as a roadblock, if the clumsy feet that had just tripped over her were anything by which to go.

She hissed her displeasure at the impudent child, a long sibilant sound with no real coherence. Tail thrashing a bit, Nagina made to slither away and hide deeper in the trees, trusting that this encounter would be chalked up to nothing more than a meeting with an overgrown garter snake or some such.

The stupid kid followed her.

He squealed, excitement clearly audible even to her ears. The child's common sense was called into question even further when he shot forward and latched onto her tail, grabbing hold tightly.

Nagini whipped around and hissed in agitation, fangs bared. "Release me, damn brat!"

The child's hand slipped and his jaw dropped. Brilliant emerald eyes widened impossibly large.

Nagini hissed again, well pleased with herself, and began slithering away.

"You... you..."

She paused.

The child's voice raised in horror. "You cussed!"

And she realized that she understood what he said.

* * *

Sleeping in her opulent bed, surrounded by thick blankets and a small mountain of pillows, Lily Potter stirred uneasily. Almondine eyes darted rapidly beneath lowered eyelids and a quiet whimper tore itself from parted lips. Distantly, her mind recognized that she was having a nightmare.

There were no words in it, no pictures, no scenes; but an overwhelming sense of _dread _and _wrongness_ pervaded the entire thing, and Dream-Lily had the unnerving sensation of being caught in a dense fog, black as ebony and obscuring everything.

A muffled thump as her thrashing leg kicked a pillow off the mattress pulled her closer to consciousness, though, and with a soft sigh the woman relaxed into an easier, more untroubled sleep.

She would not remember any of this when she awoke, of course. But perhaps a slight uneasiness or a bad humour would manifest and greet her upon her return to the waking world, and certainly she would know that she had not had a restful rest.

Her arms tightened around a pillow.

* * *

Nagini desperately, desperately wished her Master had given her permission to kill the brat. Desperately. He was infuriating.

One would think that, having just discovered the world population of Parselmouths to be roughly twice what she had heretofore imagined it to be, Nagini would be in a fairly good mood. But not so. Because this newly-discovered Snakespeaker _would not bloody shut up._

"How do snakes have babies?" The aforementioned child blurted, drawing her attention back to the present. "And how do they poop? And if your tail falls off, will it grow back again?"

Over the course of the last half an hour, the questions had been growing steadily more and more uncomfortable. Harry, it seemed - for he insisted she call him so - was a bit of a serpent fan, but was utterly starved for knowledge about his obsession.

Useless parents, Nagini thought sourly. If they'd just provided the boy with a book or two, he wouldn't be demanding this information from her.

"Maybe I'll tell you when you're older, just like anything else poops, and no - that's lizards, you twat." She had rapidly come to realize that failure to offer at least some semblance of an answer to a question was a useless strategy and only resulted in whining and more questions.

The boy blinked. "Oh. Well, then how - "

"Harry!" Nagini snapped suddenly, unable to take any more. "Won't somebody be looking for you by now? Shouldn't you be heading back to your home?"

The boy deflated. "Oh, yeah..." He visibly brightened. "But I'll come back and visit you later, okay, and we can talk some more!"

The snake felt her tail twitch. Bloody brilliant. "Of course," she acceded. "But you really must return to your home now."

"All right," he acquiesced. "Next time, though, can I bring Mum, too?"

Nagini blanched. Was the boy mentally damaged? Had they beaten him over the skull a few times? "Child," she began slowly. "Parseltongue is not a common ability, and not one many people... understand, per say. You must tell _no one _that you can and have spoken to a snake."

The boy deflated and brightened in rapid succession once again. "What kind of snake are you, anyway?"

"I do not know. I am descended from members of two very different, very powerful species."

"Oh..." He eyed her shimmering black scales thoughtfully, gaze the same color as her iridescence flicking over her golden eyes. "So you're a mutt, then?"

The brat was damned lucky that he ran off directly after that comment because, orders or no orders, there was a distinct possibility that she would have killed him.

But at least speaking to him directly made spying easier, she reassured herself. Unorthodox, perhaps, but easier.

* * *

Harry managed to slip back into his home and into his room with little to no issue. His father was off at the Ministry, after all (he could bypass the wards through the Floo, but only with the appropriate password that Harry was not permitted to know), and his mother was probably still sleeping in his parents' room.

He was somewhere beyond excited. He didn't know of a word that meant "beyond excited", but that was what he was.

Harry had never, before today, actually had an encounter with a real snake. His mother disliked them - thought they were scary and slimy and evil and all kinds of awful, untrue things - and routinely called a Pest-Control Wizard to "take care" of any that might find their way onto the property. And although he got the distinct feeling that this strange snake that had somehow managed to make her way to his home was not entirely fond of him, he also got the feeling that she would not harm him, violent wishes aside.

Well, to be honest, he had realized that _after_ he had grabbed her tail. When he had done that, he had just been so amazed to see a real, live serpent that he might have forgotten to think, a little bit.

Either way, though, once he had found out he could talk to her - he could talk to her! - he had decided to pump her for every scrap of information he possibly could. There were just so many things to learn! He had always fancied himself something of a snake buff, but once the first question slipped its way past his lips, he had realized just how little he truly knew.

He smiled. And the best, the very best, part was when she told him not to tell anyone else about this. Although he had been hoping to tell his mum about his amazing new ability, he now felt that a secret was much more fun.

"Nagini..." He pronounced the word carefully, testing out its sound in English. He smiled. It was a beautiful name, no matter the language.

Even if Nagini didn't really like him, Harry thought, he liked her and wanted to be her friend. Perhaps she'd come to like him with time.

* * *

"So, how was your day?" James asked good-naturedly as he seated himself, warm hazel eyes sparkling at the sight of the beautiful dinner laid out before him. "Anything interesting happen?"

Harry made a face at his father. "You ask that every day, Dad."

James affected to be affronted. "Well, I never! Such rudeness, and from my own son! Besides, every day is different. So every day I have to ask again." He paused for effect. "So, how was your day?"

The kid shrugged, lowering his voice conspiratorially and glancing at the kitchen door. "Okay. I went outside while Mum was napping."

James winked at him. "Naughty boy. Do anything fun outside?"

A silly grin. "I tripped."

James laughed. His son was strange, and he loved it. "Good for you."

The grin widened. "Yes."

"Whatever are you smiling like that for, Harry? You look like Sirius." Lily chided as she entered the dining room, a bowl of freshly-grated cheese in hand. She placed it on the table and sat down. A small smile turned up the corners of her ruby lips as James motioned anxiously at the spaghetti sitting in front of her. "Yes, you may eat now."

Piling his plate high and stuffing his face in a mockery of the traditional Pureblood manners he was raised with, James basked in the warm atmosphere that had finally returned to his home. He was so glad things were back to normal.

* * *

As it turned out, it took Harry two more days before he could slip out and talk to Nagini again. His father had been given the weekend off, and his mother had seemed to be determined to win back his favor after upsetting him about his change in schooling (something which, if he was to be completely honest, he no longer even really cared about), so she had more or less set upon him like a leech and kept him within her sight at all times.

But as it reached noon the following Monday, Harry found himself unwatched. His mum was napping again, thankfully, and his father had been called back to work.

"Nagini!" he shrieked giddily as he sped out into the forest behind his home. "Nagini, where are you?"

A few moments later, the glittering snake slipped into view, fixing him with an irate glare. "I understood not a word of that, boy, but am I to assume you were calling me?"

Having his eyes settle on her allowed Harry to once again slip into Parseltongue. "Yep."

She glared at him some more. "Well? What do you want?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. To talk. Ask you stuff."

Nagini heaved the serpentine version of a sigh. "I see."

Suddenly, Harry smiled and withdrew a dead mouse from behind his back, holding it out proudly. "I brought you a present, though. Our cat killed it."

The snake studied it disinterestedly for awhile before murmuring stiffly. "It is small, but... thank you, I suppose."

Harry beamed. "No problem. Now, I have a few questions..."

* * *

Harry sneaked into the forest thrice more that week, and four times the next. And as August rolled into September, his visits became more frequent until he was spending an hour or two with Nagini every day that his father was at work.

The days became cooler and the air crisper, and Harry became concerned about his friend - for what else could he call her, now? - as he recalled hearing once that snakes had to hibernate during the cold months.

"Nagini," he asked one day not long after the new month had begun. "Why'd you come here, anyway? I mean, don't you have to go back to your home so you can hibernate or something?"

The snake gave that strange little sigh of hers he had become fond of over the weeks and fixed him with a vibrant topaz gaze. "Where I came from is no business of yours, child, but, yes, I do have to go to sleep someplace warm soon. It's getting much too cold in this forest of yours. Already, I grow sluggish and drowsy."

Harry shrugged. "Just asking, no need to get touchy."

She nudged him with her arrow-shaped head, a gesture she had made innumerable times by this point. "I know. But I dislike lacking control over my reflexes. It makes me feel vulnerable."

Harry stroked her back and tossed her a grin. "I'll protect you, then!"

She snorted.

* * *

"Nagini?"

"Yes?"

"You never told me why you're still here. It's been almost week since I asked; don't you have to go back now?"

The snake twitched in annoyance, although the boy noticed that the movement was considerably slower than it would have been just a few days earlier. "It's these bloody wards, Harry. I can't get past them."

Harry winced. Those had been his mum's idea, true, and Dumbledore's doing, but he still felt guilty. "Oh. Why not?"

Another twitch. "That paranoid old wizard seems to have keyed them to keep everything that is in, in, and everything that is out, out, regardless of species."

"So you can't escape?"

She hissed at him, irritated. "I believe I just made that clear."

Harry responded with a stuck-out tongue. "Well, _sorry._" He paused. "You can't stay out here, though, can you? Won't your friend get worried?"

Nagini had mentioned to him, briefly, that she had a friend back wherever it was that she lived that had been the reason that she had come to Harry's home. She had refused to say more, of course, but mentioned that her friend might be interested in meeting Harry someday. When Harry had said that was creepy, she had responded that he was really quite a nice person once one got to know him. (Harry had responded, "Oh, so it's a he?" and Nagini had promptly closed off on that subject.)

She sighed. "Yes. But there's nothing I can do about that."

Harry resumed the gentle stroking along her smoothly-scaled back. "Well, if you're not going to be able to go back anyway, will you come stay with me?"

She looked at him, and Harry felt slightly uncomfortable under that penetrating gaze. "Erm, well, I mean - would you like to come sleep in the house, in my room, where it's warm?"

'Warm' seemed to have been the magic word, because the snake agreed instantly and curled her bulk around his tiny frame.

Harry grimaced. Well, he might not have thought this through all the way. How was he going to sneak a creature this size into his room without anyone noticing?

* * *

Very easily, as it turned out. His mother seemed to have taken it upon herself to become a world-class napper.

Harry smiled gently as he settled Nagini into a pillow-lined basket he had hidden under his bed. According to that book he'd stolen from his parents' room all those months ago, excessive napping was a perfectly normal thing to do when one was pregnant.

* * *

...I think I hate my writing style...

I dunno, did Nagini and Harry's relationship seem forced to anyone? I still need to develop it more, I think, or it will seem flat and stupid.


	6. Half a Chapter

...Or a third of a chapter, really.

So, I am guessing that, by now, most of you have figured out that I have writer's block. (Gee, what tipped you off?) And I just have to say, I'M SORRY! I am SO SORRY! If I were to meet any of you in real life, I would prostrate myself at your feet and beg forgiveness. I AM SO SORRY!

Unfortunately, that writer's block STILL HAS NOT BEEN BROKEN. It's driving me insane! This one third to half a chapter you see below is all I have been able to write. So, I'm switching tacks.

I do have an outline, and I do know what is _supposed _to happen in the rest of the chapter, but actually writing it is giving me great difficulty. So, after you read this, could you please review and tell me what you think is going to happen in the rest of the chapter? With any luck, you could help me get my spark back! And then I'll love you forever. And update with a proper chapter.

I am sorry I am so lame.

* * *

"Woah, slow down, kiddo!" Sirius laughed as he watched Harrry spoon a third helping of roast beef onto his plate. "I don't know that such a small kid should eat so much - you're gonna give yourself indigestion, hmm?"

Harry froze mid-ladel. "Err, I'm hungry?" Suddenly he glared. "And I'm not small."

Beside Sirius, Remus chuckled good-naturedly. "Of course you're not. He meant to say 'such a cute kid,'" this earned him a glare as well, "But I must say I agree, you're eating quite a bit tonight."

Harry shrugged, flushing. "I just... was hungry? You know, 'cause of all the running...? I did today?"

Sirius smiled. "Worked up an appetite. I completely understand. Why, once, I - " He paused. "Never mind. When you're older, maybe."

As Remus turned to Harry's other uncle and began teasing him about whatever incident he had been about to relate, Harry nonchalantly slid the piece of meat that had caused this entire ruckus into his pocket. He had thought - foolishly, he now realized - that having his Mum and Dad off on a "date" (which was to say, James had all but drugged Lily in his effort to get her out of the house and away from her son for even a single evening) and being left alone with his three uncles as babysitters would mean he could let his guard down a little and sneak extra food to Nagini without being caught. He had based this entire rationale on the near indisputable fact that the three of them were not the most observant lot, except that tonight, for whatever reason, Sirius Black seemed to have decided to open his eyes and pay attention to his surroundings.

Harry huffed, and his Uncle Peter caught his eye and winked.

And that was another thing. Peter had been acting - well, weird - lately. He had taken to keeping a very close watch on Harrry every time he visited; and that was, as of late, quite frequently. Over the last month or so, he had dropped by the Potter household no less than eight times, a huge increase over his customary once a fortnight. He had even begun questioning Harry as to how he was feeling that day, did he get enough sleep, any nightmares, things like that. Harry huffed again: Honestly, it was probably because of that stupid raid again. It seemed to have turned everyone into an over-protective freak - Peter was almost as bad as his mother!

Said man cleared his throat as the teasing between Remus and Sirus threatened to become a full-scale argument (on Sirius's part, at least; Remus still looked pleasantly amused). In his usual Public-Peter voice (for that is what Harry had taken to calling it), he asked, "Er, is shoving all of this to the side and just going straight to dessert completely out of the question?"

This perked Sirius up instantly. "Never!" He gaped as if personally offended. "Just going to dessert is _never _out of the question!"

Peter flashed the man a weak smile. "Then let's do that."

* * *

"I hope you enjoy this," Harry groused as he fished several chunks of meat out of his pockets. "Because I nearly got busted."

Nagini slithered out of her hiding place under his bed, mumbling groggily, "What's that?"

Harry tossed the beef at her. "I said, Sirius nearly caught me taking food for you, so you better enjoy it."

The serpent poked at one of the chunks with her delicately pointed head, tongue flicking out to smell it. "Well, I thank you for this. But you don't have to keep sneaking things for me; I can go several months without eating, you know."

Emerald eyes became comically wide. "Nuh-uh?"

"Of course. Most reptiles, snakes in particular, can do this. Crocodiles can last years."

"Wow..." Harry breathed.

Nagini rolled her eyes skyward. "Yes, wow. My point is, although I am grateful, you no not need to risk inquiries because I do not need to eat."

The boy blinked. He shrugged. "Okay."

There was a silence then, more comfortable than awkward, punctuated only by soft gulping sounds as Nagini swallowed her morsels. At length, Harry murmured, "Nagini?"

The serpent looked at him.

"Why haven't you gone to sleep by now, anyway?"

She looped her coils in the serpentine equivolent of a shrug. "I suppose because the temperature indoors is so much warmer, although I do not think I can stave it off indefinitely."

"Oh."

Another companionable silence.

Then, "Nagini?"

"Hmm?"

"It's sad, isn't it?"

"What is sad, Harry?"

"My first real friend isn't even human."

A forked tongue flickered out in befuddled shock.

Harry stood suddenly, small hands dusting off his black corduroy pants. "I gotta go downstairs now, I think. Peter and Remus and Sirius will be wondering what I'm doing. I'll talk to you more later."

Nagini did not reply.

* * *

A/N: ...And that's all I've got. Pretty pathetic, huh? Well, at any rate, I thought I'd take a shot and see if my reviewers can help me pull myself out of this black void of creativity.

Once again, I apologize for the lameness that is me.


End file.
